


imagine

by Mouse_Prints



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phan, youtube - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse_Prints/pseuds/Mouse_Prints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine you meet the perfect person for you, and you know it, they know it too, and you love them, and they probably love you.<br/>Imagine you just can never love yourself enough to be what they deserve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	imagine

**Author's Note:**

> Just fyi this isn't meant to be an x-reader...just kinda different. I really hope it doesn't come across that way..

Imagine you’re alone, in an eternal darkness. Completely and totally. At least, that's how it feels.  
Imagine you can do nothing but spend every moment of your time wondering why you were never enough for anybody, why everyone leaves.  
Imagine every time you dare to look in the mirror you just wish it'd shatter and take you with its shards.  
Imagine the only thing you have is your routine. Wake up, bullshit around online, go to work, die a little inside, then accept sleep again.  
Imagine the only thing you have to come home to is a dirty flat with a stained bed and faulty wiring. It doesn’t even have a toaster.  
Imagine you barely even notice these things anymore.  
Imagine you don’t even care that you know this. It doesn’t matter.  
Imagine nothing does.

~

Then imagine one day you meet him. It’s instantly natural and comfortable and like you’ve known him forever.  
Imagine he's a put-together photography student, not too much older than you, in his final year at uni.  
Imagine his hair is a black, haphazard, scruffy mess, but it only accentuates the eyes that are blue as Cool Blast Gatorade and that change in different lights.  
Imagine he wears flannels that are too big for him, and jeans that are probably too tight. Imagine he drags you to candid-photo-taking-expeditions right as soon as you come home from work because "that’s when the lighting is nice".  
Imagine you groan because it is so new and so different, but you do it anyways because he's yours and you're his.  
Imagine you pose in the golden light in the park overlooking the baseball field, and you listen to the shutter of the lens.  
Imagine you hear it stop and you look to see why, and he's just looking at you. You ask why he isn’t taking pictures and he replies with "because the camera can’t always capture it all". Imagine you've never been more in love than in that moment.  
Imagine your life together flashes in your mind in pieces- the wedding, the home with the picket fence- the hydrangeas in the garden.  
Imagine he stands and takes a picture of a cigarette, with the tip still alive and burning, by your feet.  
Imagine he sighs to himself and you can hear him say softly, "How can something so fucked, be so beautiful?", and he looks at you as he says it as though bargaining for an actual answer. Imagine you are speechless as you stare into his gloriously stunning irises.  
Imagine he stands, ready to leave, but you pull him back down to sit right next to you. Imagine you press your lips to his, and when he leans in without hesitation, you can feel all the electricity of seven lightning bolts and see fireworks behind your closed eyelids as the sun set to your left.  
Imagine you’ve never felt so complete.  
Imagine, as much as you hate to admit it, you are happy. Happy with the situation, happy with this moment, happy with this life.  
Imagine you are happy. With him.  
Imagine you walk back home across the park, and he stops to take a picture of a daisy, even though it’s nearly dark, his hair falling into his face, before complaining that his storage is almost full again.  
Imagine you joke that "But doesn't that mean thousands of pictures?", and he looks you dead in the eye and says "Of course. Are you surprised?".  
Imagine you reply with "no", and his lips turn up in the corner, and he absentmindedly tucks his hair back behind her ear in the way that drives you crazy.  
Imagine it’s not even in a sexual way, just in the way that you can't believe you're actually the one this incredible person has chosen to be with. 

~

Imagine it all comes crashing down.  
Imagine there's nothing you can do as you hear your own voice in your ear shouting, and you regret everything as he hastily stuffs things into a bag.  
Imagine you can see the tears streaming down his face, and you know it's all your fault. Imagine you realize all of your mistakes as he shoves past you, and you can only yell his name desperately, begging him to come back. But why would he?  
Imagine you can see every fabled memory of your future with him fading out of hypothetical existence as he glides down the stairs towards the front door.  
Imagine he turns, and you've never seen so much hurt in somebody's eyes, those beautiful eyes, and you feel something break inside you.  
Imagine he parts those cherry lips to say words, but he only closes them again and shakes his head.  
Imagine you watch as he pulls open the front door and leaves, and you wish so badly that he would slam the door behind him, yell at you, scream his hatred from the rooftops, but he goes silently and that hurts more than a thousand knives in your skin.  
Imagine you can do nothing but collapse to the floor hopelessly, and run through every awful thing you said to him as your own tears start to fall, and you're surprised that you weren't already crying.  
Imagine knowing deeply that he'll never talk to you again, and you don't blame him one bit. Imagine that the emptiness you feel without his touch, without his warmth, eats at you more than the guilt itself.

~

Imagine it’s been days and those days shift to excruciating weeks.  
Imagine you hate that you’re waiting, hate that you can’t let it go, hate that you can’t just forget him, hate that you never called to apologize, hate that he’s probably moved on, and most of all hate yourself. Hate yourself for hurting him in the first place.  
Imagine walking past the hardware store where you work, knowing full well you should be there, but why should you even bother?  
Imagine watching as the first bills start to filter into your mail slot, marking the beginning of a new month, and you feel as though somebody has shoved a spear through your stomach because it’s just another slap in the face that it’s been too long.  
Imagine picking up your phone with shaky hands and scrolling through the contacts, down further and further through the alphabet of people who you know would see your call and simply ignore it, until you land on his name. That shimmering little fish in the giant pool of harsh rejections. But you don’t even know what to say.  
Imagine you manage to force yourself to click on his name, and select the messaging option. Calling seems like too much, because what if he doesn’t pick up - or worse - what if he does.  
Imagine your thumbs hover, trembling, over the small iphone5 keyboard as your brain races through the possibilities of things to say, only to pluck a flaw in every single option.  
Imagine your eventual leeway as you see more than feel yourself typing the awful, single, pointless word “hey”, and your gut wrenches as you press send.  
Imagine all you can do is wait. All you can do is sit alone again and wait, staring at this stupid little screen as though your life depends on it, and you hate the fact that it probably does.  
Imagine you are there for hours. Hours that feel like lifetimes all passing by with the impossible combined speed of molasses, slugs, and maths lessons.  
Imagine your eyes closing on their own accord, as you watch the clock on your phone slide to 2:20am, and you can’t believe you feel tired - but somehow your body manages to do it all on its own.

~  
Imagine you awake with a start to your phone, set accidentally way too loud, bing right next to your ear, with a text alert.  
Imagine you rub your eyes, and check the time on the oven clock, only to realize that the power is out again.  
Imagine you turn on your phone, blinking away the brief sleep, only to check the time, because who could be texting you at 4:17am, and instead, you see his name.  
Imagine your heart stops and your breath and saliva and everything else, including possibly some major organs, catch in your throat, leaving no room for air. But in that moment, you couldn’t give any fucks about breathing, even if you wanted to.  
Imagine holding your breath long enough to be an Olympic swimmer, as you struggle to type in the code to unlock your phone.  
Imagine pulling down the drop-down menu and selecting that lingering name, still embossed with ironic emojis that you should have deleted ages ago if nothing else out of unseen respect for the man, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.  
Imagine scouring the message over and over, because that can’t be all, that’s impossible.  
Imagine just seeing, “Oh”, and the breath you finally release feels like everything that was held there is simply shoved back into your body without a care as to where it’s supposed to go and is breaking everything in its path.  
Imagine seeing the droplet of water on your screen before feeling it come down your face.  
Imagine the absolute loss of words in the truest sense of the word “loss”, because what the hell are you supposed to say?  
Imagine closing your eyes and not caring as two more drops land on your screen and slide down the thirty-degree angle you’re holding it at.  
Imagine typing, like an absolute idiot, the most cliche thing that you possibly could, and knowing it’s wrong as soon as you send “can we talk?” because that was never how you two were. If there was something that was hurting somebody, the other would know what as soon as it happened. And that had already happened, and he was hurt, and you knew why already. So what was even the point, because he could never love you again. That is if he ever even did.  
Imagine wanting so badly to take it back. Take it all back. Take back that stupid message, that stupid one day that you yelled at him about that nothing, that stupid first time you kissed him, that stupid first time he held your hand and you pulled away even though it was something so tender, and so sincere, and something you’d never had before and now would kill to have again. To take back that stupid first time, on your bed late at night, that you let yourself admit that you were falling for him, and to take back ever even burdening him with yourself when you knew you would only mess it all up and make everything go wrong. Like you always did.  
Imagine not knowing you could hate yourself even more until you see the reply almost instantly that reads, “i guess, but i dont have much 2 say”.  
Imagine you are near sobbing now as you type back “i know, and i dont blame you, but i ju st want u to know that im sorry. Im so sorry,,” with considerably more typos than you wished were there, but above all you just wish he were there. Right next to you, laughing with his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth like it always was. Dancing unapologetically on the rug in the middle of the living room to some silly anime opening theme song, like he always did. You wish you could look over and see him asleep on the couch, sprawled out like he owned the place, and you’re more than happy to accommodate. Or peeking around the corner from the kitchen in just some oversized shirt, boxers and mich-matched socks, confessing sheepishly his cruel sins of eating all of the snacks. Snacks you never bothered to refill since, because honestly you would never eat them anyways, you just loved the way he blushed when you said it was fine, but teased that you’d never forgive him.  
Imagine you wish more than anything that he would walk through that door, switch on the lights, and rest his head on your shoulder, whilst complaining about his two-ton load of photography books, that you just know he secretly doesn’t mind carrying because he thinks they make him look smarter. But you can’t even switch on the lights yourself because you’re too pathetic to pay the bill, and instead all you have is the slowly dying phone in your hands with a disgustingly lame, and far too late attempt at reconciliation toting the doomsday device that is the “read at 2:19” underneath.  
Imagine you can’t stop the tears from your far less superior eyes and the terrible, inhuman choking sounds that are escaping from your throat as the three dots appear and you watch as another message comes up saying “txt is lame, can i call you?”.  
Imagine every inch of your body seizes up but the call comes in before you can reply with an adamant “no, i am a mess right now”.  
Imagine you accept the call and do everything in your power not to sound as though you’re dripping with tears and snot and spit and everything unflattering that you wish you were strong enough not to be because this is all idiotic anyways. He doesn’t love you, not anymore.  
Imagine you’re pretty good at keeping moderate composure while you hear silence on the other end, until you hear your name. Uttered softly, but with his voice, and it’s too much. It’s something you’d never thought you’d hear again, and every bit of decorum shatters.  
Imagine your dismay as all you can manage in reply to something you’ve run over time and time again in your mind, is wracked sobs and awful, unbecoming sniffles.  
Imagine you try your best to form words, but you can’t, and you hear the line go dead, and see he’s hung up.  
Imagine you throw your phone across the room with such force you just know it broke on the exposed brick on the other side of the living room, but you couldn’t care less.  
Imagine you fall hopelessly onto your side into fetal position onto the couch and shut your eyes, with your face hot from tears and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to stop, and you just wish you could start over.  
Imagine wondering if you’ll just stay here forever, never stopping, never eating, never drinking, and just withering away gradually and naturally. Wondering if anyone would miss you if you did. 

~

Imagine you don’t hear the unlocked door open, and you are shocked to feel warm arms and cold hands wrap around you, pulling you to a sitting position.  
Imagine you jump in surprise at the sudden touch, but the arms don’t budge, and you look to your right and can just make out in the moonlight, those same, striking, electric blue eyes that could power the whole house all on their own.  
Imagine knowing that at this point, judging by the movies, that you should be wiping away at your tears, grinning from ear to ear, and hugging him back. Him. There. With you. But why? Instead, all you can do is fall onto his chest and continue to cry.  
Imagine you feel him rest his head on top of yours, and brush the hair gently from your face, and you feel a drop of water hit your hand, and you realize he’s crying too.  
Imagine hearing him wipe his nose, directly above you, and then whispering, in a tone that you and only you will ever hear, “It’s alright, I forgive you,”.  
Imagine filling with such a warmth that it only makes you cry more because you don’t know if your emotions can handle such a rollercoaster.  
Imagine being confused as to why this is happening, why he came to you without being asked, why he’s being so kind, why he’s crying with you, why he’s even giving you the time of day. Then somehow, at the same time, miraculously feeling more whole than you could possibly fathom at this point. Him being here, somehow, for some reason. Yet, despite everything, you still know why, and he confirms it before you can even admit it to yourself.  
Imagine him saying, impossibly lightly, and impossibly able to read your mind, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> First Dan and Phil fic and written around 1am, so it's kinda short. Also a little sad, sorry. Hope you liked it and thanks for reading it to the end!


End file.
